


Bleary But Awake

by Krasimer



Series: Rise Up (Glitter And Gold) [2]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Bring back the General, I like it better for her, Kozmotis comes back, M/M, Redemption, Sandy helps him, Seraphina is the name I use for Pitchiner's daughter, Surprise! - Freeform, Takes place directly after the other part, Three years ago?, Which I wrote..., because why not, sequel time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 13:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14593944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: Sandy had forgotten, somehow, how much his own wishes hurt.





	Bleary But Awake

There were things that all beings feared.

The Fearlings brought them to life, gave breath to things on wicked feet, gave form to worst nightmares. Those beings made entirely of darkness and terror, they had reigned for long centuries. They had torn lives apart and they had left ruin in their wake.

And then they had ruined a man.

A single, solitary man. One who had, at one point in history, been a General. Been a hero.

Been a father.

He traced trembling fingers over the engravings on the locket, then turned his head away to watch his companion. Sandy, Sanderson, the lovely fallen star that had only ever asked for his company, for a little of his time. Sanderson, a hero of an age long since past.

Sanderson, his oldest and only remaining friend.

He had been Kozmotis and he had been General Pitchner and he had been father and daddy and he had loved his daughter so much and the—

The guilt _ate_ at his heart. At what was left of it, blackened and shriveled as it was. Sanderson had rescued him from the worst of the nightmares, from the worst of what plagued him. The living cream puff had floated merrily into the darkness and pulled gently at the scraps of a person left behind by the Nightmares. Some of the scraps belonged to Kozmotis Pitchner, a Good Man, but most of them belonged to Pitch Black, the worst of the Fearlings.

What sort of kindness was it, to bring back the ghost of a dead man?

Pitch felt his upper lip pull back, snarling and angry, before something smoothed his features back down. Kozmotis sighed and shook his head, continuing his inspection of his locket. It was, somehow, untarnished. Untouched by the darkness that had dragged at it’s owner, untouched by _that_ day.

The day that Kozmotis Pitchiner, General of the Golden Age, fell to darkness. The day the Golden Age stopped. The day it died.

The beginning of the end for so many.

The death of Seraphina Pitchner. His daughter. All thoughts of her made something in his chest clench, like a fist had wrapped around his blackened heart and tried to squeeze the darkness out of him. The Sandman had only made some things worse in trying to rescue him, had only brought a dizziness and an unsteadiness to him.

The Sandman had brought ruin to him.

“You should have left me in the darkness,” Pitch hissed at his long-time enemy. “That is where I belong.”

Sanderson’s eyes shifted to look at him, more serious than he had seen them be in an age or two. ‘ _Should I have?’_ came the whispers from his sands. ‘ _Should I have left you to **rot?** ’_

Kozmotis’s breath stuttered, somewhere between scared and confused.

The Sandman’s sands wrapped around him, wrapped around his heart and pulled gently at the darkness surrounding it. ‘ _The Man in the Moon has dictated what we do for so long,’_ his words were whispered directly into Pitch’s ear. Kozmotis shuddered, his hands coming up with Pitch’s intent to grasp and pull and free himself from the Dreamer’s grasp.

Sandy did not let him.

‘ _We have our centers, we are Guardians,’_ Sandy whispered as he pressed his small hands to Kozmotis’s temples, bringing their foreheads gently together. ‘ _But we are one Guardian short. The Guardian of the Nighttime, Keeper of Reasonable Fears, the one who keeps children from wandering off into the darkness alone.’_

The sands churned around them and Pitch snarled, trying to fight every ounce of them, pick off every grain with his own.

His own sands, however, turned golden when they touched Sanderson’s.

Pitch screamed.

 

~

 

“Woah, _woah_ ,” Jack hovered at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide as he watched Sandy’s dream sand explode outward.

The Guardian of Dreams had called them all here, had asked them to watch over as he dragged Pitch out of his lair. The Nightmares had come up shortly after them, had gathered around them, only to be drowned out in the golden sands. Their shrieks and screams went silent and Jack watched with wide eyes as the torrent of sand curled into a ball around the two in the middle.

“What is _happening?_ ” he turned to North, hovered a few feet off the ground.

“There was a time,” North began quietly, “And everyone forgets this, but there was a time when a General of the Golden Age was remembered as a hero.” He cleared his throat, turning to watch as Bunny arrived. The Pooka was carrying something, an odd contraption that looked almost like a jar with a golden lid, big enough to fit most of Jack inside of it. “I was not around for this,” he started speaking again while Bunny set it up on the ground. “But I have heard stories of the good man who was corrupted into darkness and nightmares.”

Jack frowned, letting himself curl up so he was perched on the crook of his staff, the end of it on the ground. “Wait, so how—”

Bunny.

The Pooka was the only one that ever seemed old enough for Jack to believe he could have been around for so long. Bunny had to have been the reason North knew anything about something before his time. “…So,” Jack began again. “What is happening?”

“Sandy is trying to separate out the good man from the darkness,” North’s hands clenched like he wanted his swords, wanted to fight back against something. He didn’t like waiting, Jack had realized. At his heart, he was still very much in tune with the joy and excitement that small children felt, incapable of holding still.

Jack could relate, holding still sucked.

“But, wait,” Jack frowned as he watched the sands shift. “Pitch used to be someone else. Someone good.”

“Kozmotis Pitchiner.” Bunny’s gruff accent rumbled through the space between them, like he was trying to hold on to his temper and was only just managing it. “General of the Golden Age. He fell to th’ Fearlings, let them out once we had captured them.” He moved something on the contraption and frowned. “I think I know what happened.” He sighed, then took a couple of deep breaths. “Sandy asked me ta be here, to help with this in any way I could. He’s gonna drag Pitch Black out of the host body and I’m s’posed ta capture the result.”

Jack glanced up when he heard wingbeats, waving quickly at Tooth. “You can do it,” he told Bunny.

Green eyes snapped to him, blinking a couple of times. “What?”

“You can do it,” Jack nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up just a fraction. “Big ol’ warrior Bunny, you’re awesome at fighting and you can do it.”

Bunny looked at him, then huffed out what might have been a laugh before he turned back to his contraption. “Vote a’ confidence does wonders, Frostbite.” He nudged it a few more times, putting things fully into place.

“So what is that thing?”

Without turning to look at him again, Bunny hummed for a second before he said, “Pookan technology. A refined version of what held th’ Fearlings in the first place. Reduce the space they take up, compress them. The old version was a beaut of a thing, handy and well-made, but,” he paused and frowned at a component, huffing at it in frustration. “There was a fail-safe, a bit in the design that never made _sense._ ”

Jack stepped forward and offered his hand, letting Bunny move his fingers like a tool to push the piece into place. “What was it?”

“A door,” Bunny glanced at him for a second, nodding his thanks. “Pitchiner heard something, opened th’ door after the Fearlings put a thrall on him. It was hard to put together the story, Pitch Black didn’t want to admit who he had existed as, before. Didn’t want to tell us anythin’ about what had happened before Pitchiner became him.”

“Do you know what he heard?” Jack looked from Bunny to North to Tooth.

With a small grunt, Bunny finished with his arrangements and nodded. “He heard his daughter.”

Jack felt a shiver run down his spine, a gasp punching out of his mouth as his fingers tightened on his staff. His sister’s voice echoed in his mind and he thought about how protective he had been of her. How much he had loved her, enough to give his life for her. Kozmotis Pitchiner, a hero and a General and a _father_ , how scared would he have been for his daughter?

What would he have given up to see her to safety?

Jack had a feeling he knew the answer to that second question. He had let the Fearlings overtake him, had let them out because of the threat to his little girl. He had loved his daughter so much that he had destroyed himself in an attempt to keep her safe. Thralls weren’t easy to break, even for those experienced in breaking them – Jack had seen them put into use a few times.

Pitchiner had probably already been paranoid, his mental defenses broken down by what sounded like a war.

And broken mental walls allowed thralls to take root.

Clutching at his staff with both hands, Jack turned back to the sandstorm in the middle of the clearing. This was where they had chased Pitch, only a few months before. This was where his lair had been.

“…Jack?”

He turned back to Bunny, trying to take a deep breath. Pitch had been right – they were a lot alike. Or rather, Pitchiner and Jack were alike. A father willing to give up everything for his daughter and a big brother who had died for his little sister. “I’m okay,” he told the Pooka. He shifted his feet, nodding once he realized he hadn’t been lying. He was okay.

And he was going to do what he could to help Pitchiner.

“Anything I can do to make this easier?” he asked Bunny. He shifted his staff from one hand to the other, forcing his shoulders to relax.

Bunny nodded after a few seconds. “If any a’ them try ta run, freeze ‘em. Don’t need Fearlings from the Golden Age runnin’ around. The Nightmares are bad enough, diluted Fearlings as they are. They’ve got a chunk of Fearling at their heart, not the full thing.”

Less than a minute after he said that, the sand seemed to explode outward.

From what Jack could see, Sandy’s dream sand was wrangling all of the creatures that tried to run, throwing them into the jar. He only had to freeze one of them, followed moments later by Sandy’s whip curling around it and throwing it into the jar. North, having pulled out his swords, stood off to one side, prepared to fight if necessary.

When the air cleared, the sand dropping to the ground, they could all see Sandy and what had to be Kozmotis Pitchiner.

Sandy’s knees were tucked up into Pitchiner’s armpits, the star’s hands clutching tightly to the back of the former-General’s head. Small fingers were buried in dark hair, the rest of Sandy’s body wrapped tightly around the man sitting before him.

In return, Pitchiner’s arms were clutching Sandy even closer to him, his eyes closed as he shoved his face into the Dreamer’s stomach.

The contents of the jar contraption that Bunny held fought against him – the entire jar was shaking and the shadows inside of it were screaming. Within the mass, a pair of silver eyes could be seen, glaring out at those who watched them.

With a deep breath, North slid his swords away, daring to take a step closer to Bunny. “It is finished?” he asked, his usually booming voice nearly a strained whisper.

“Yeah,” Bunny narrowed his eyes at the ones currently staring directly at him. “She’s apples, just need ta lock it away forever.” He double-tapped the ground with his foot, sending the contraption down the hole that appeared and following after it. The hole closed after he disappeared, leaving behind a single daisy.

Jack floated over to the edge of the circle that Sandy’s sand had carved into the ground. “Wow…” he muttered, prodding at it with his staff.

With a quiet hum, Tooth fluttered over to his side, her wings beating sharply at the air as she hesitated. “Do you think they’re alright?” she asked him, both of them sharing a nervous glance. After a second, she cleared her throat and called out to the two in the center of the circle. “Did everything go the right way?”

Sandy turned to her, his eyes wide and almost glittering in the light coming from the sunset.

With his companion still clinging to him, it was impossible for the Dreamer to move, but he managed to flash some symbols at them. Whatever he’d said seemed to mollify Tooth, as she nodded and flitted over to North.

“Hey Sandy,” Jack called out.

Sandy sent out a small sand greeting, petting gently at Pitchiner’s hair. It was a protective gesture as well as a loving one and Jack could tell that Pitchiner needed it. When the man who had been Pitch Black pulled back, he looked up at Sandy with eyes full of tears. “Sanderson?”

With a nod, Sandy kept petting his hair.

“How,” Pitchiner cast around, spotting Jack and the others. “How did you manage to _stop_ me? I was a _nightmare_.”

“He enlisted a few friends,” Jack called out to the man. He still had the features that Pitch Black’d had, the strong nose and the sharp eyes, but there was something kinder behind them now. Something stronger, much more like what Jack imagined a hero would be like – kind and strong, fierce and brave. “But mostly, I think he just dove headfirst into keeping you from doing anything else.”

Pitchiner focused on Jack for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he leaned back on his heels, his hands still wrapped around Sandy.

It was the sort of narrowing that seemed to go along with trying to get eyes to focus, from what Jack could tell. The man nodded slowly, eyes closing as he let himself relax somewhat. “And the Fearlings? I’ve already failed in keeping them contained, I can only hope that they will be kept far from this world.”

“Bunny’s got ‘em,” Jack shrugged a shoulder, floating over the marks dug into the ground from the sand and hovering a few feet from the Keepers of Dreams and Nightmares. “Go Pooka tech, keep them sealed.”

“Pooka—” Pitchiner let out a startled laugh. “They survived me, then.” He frowned. “At least, one of them did.”

Sandy shook his head and grasped Pitchiner’s face in both of his hands, his symbols flashing quickly above his head. They went too fast for Jack to understand, but they seemed to stave off the panic on the other’s face.

Tooth fluttered around above them, directing her fairies as she circled. “It’s good to see something good coming out of the darkness,” she smiled at Pitchiner and Sandy.

“Is very good,” North added. “One less thing to worry over.”

Pitchiner took a deep breath. “What if I return to being _him?_ ” he looked at the Guardians, fear flashing through his eyes. “What if I become the monster you all fear, once more? What if it becomes much more permanent, no way out?”

“Then we will stop you,” North said it so matter-of-fact that Jack almost slipped out of the air in shock. “But you will not. Do not borrow troubles, not from the somedays and the maybes. You are Kozmotis Pitchiner,” he eyed the darkness that remained on his hands. “For the most part.”

“That almost looks like gloves,” Jack added. “Kind of cool.”

As if he could not help it, Pitchiner snorted out a laugh. “There is much reassurance in your words,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

 

~

 

The Guardians had seen them off, to Sandy’s realm, then had left them alone together.

“I have done so much wrong,” Kozmotis murmured when they were alone. “I murdered and attacked and destroyed—”

‘ _You did not murder your daughter,’_ Sandy whispered, stroking soothingly at Kozmotis’s hair. ‘ _A monster wearing your face did. He took everything you were and corrupted it, twisted it for his own use. You are a victim in this,’_ he swiped his thumb gently over the tears running down Kozmotis’s face. _‘And I am sorry for not being able to help.’_

“You are one of the ones who kept me from destroying the entire galaxy,” Kozmotis gave a bitter laugh. “I think you helped in more ways than you even know, my old friend.”

He sat up slowly, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. Even with how weak he was after having Pitch Black removed, he was already looking so much more like himself. Like a layer of coal had been washed off, or perhaps the darkest ash, his skin was returning to the almost-bronze it had once been, his hair was returning to the dark auburn it had been.

His eyes were the golden-brown that Sandy had loved, oh so long ago.

Kozmotis looked at his hands, twisting and turning them as he frowned. His palms were blackened, the darkness spreading halfway up his forearms. When he curled his fingers in, shadows sprang to follow his movements, twisting around his wrists and arms like a strangely affectionate cat.

“Interesting,” he looked up at Sandy.

‘ _The Guardian of Fear,’_ Sandy floated over to him studying the shadows intently. ‘ _There was some mention, a prophecy of sorts…I had not thought it was to be…This long after, I suppose.’_

“This long after?”

‘ _I considered you the Guardian of Fear a long time ago, in keeping with how you kept our hearts safe from being afraid. Our brave General, fighting the Fearlings and refusing to let us be afraid. Bolstering spirits with speeches and love and bravery and kindness,’_ Sandy reached forward and put a hand on his cheek. ‘ _As long as you were around, we were not afraid. The first time I felt fear was when you became Pitch Black.’_

Kozmotis studied his face for a long time, silent and still. When he spoke, his voice sounded like he had been punched in the gut. “I am to be trusted, still? After all that was done in my name, with my face and my voice and my body and myself inside, I am to be trusted?” his laughter this time was panicked. “I murdered the Tsar and his family, I ruined everything, I destroyed two people who should, by all rights, still be here!” he curled his knees to his chest. “I abandoned my duty, I left my post, _I let the Fearlings go free!_ ”

‘ _Because Tsar Lunanoff made the wrong decisions,’_ Sandy told him. ‘ _His son has some things he wishes to say to you, on that subject.’_

“Katherine and Nightlight are gone,” Kozmotis muttered. “I am the one who caused it to be so. I have much to make up for.” He raised his head, having ducked it down to avoid Sandy’s eyes when the Dreamer had tried to meet his. “It is very well, then, that I have become surrounded by Guardians.”

_‘Will you take the role of Guardian of Fears?’_

“I will,” Kozmotis took Sandy’s hands in his own. “And I will strive to right the wrongs I committed.”

 _‘Your face and voice were used, there were things done in your name, but you are not to blame.’_ Sandy’s fingers grasped his. ‘ _I have loved you for so very long, do not think I do not know the man I love._ ’

“You won’t let me blame myself, will you?” Kozmotis chuckled. “My Sanderson, my light in the darkness, keeper of Dreams and Guardian of the sweetest sleep. I,” he took a deep breath, bronze eyes meeting Sandy’s. “I have loved you since the moment I met you. You burst into my life in what could almost be called a supernova, you filled the shadows of my life with light fit to rival the moon itself, perhaps even the sun – you are _all_ I have loved besides my daughter.” He curled one of his hands around his locket. “My Seraphina and my Sanderson. Both beloved, with all my heart.”

_‘Koz,’_

“I had forgotten how much I loved you, for a time,” Kozmotis let himself curl against Sandy’s side. “I only wish that we could have figured out such things before our family was torn apart by my fears.”

Sandy, he could feel, went still next to him except for the movement of one small hand through his hair.

 

~

 

Sandy had forgotten, somehow, how much his own wishes _hurt_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, I am back!
> 
> Three years later.


End file.
